


The Importance of Realistic Expectations

by JustAWritingAmateur



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-24 07:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1596719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAWritingAmateur/pseuds/JustAWritingAmateur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trustshipping. Battle City. On a hot night on the zeppelin, Ishizu is tormented by dreams... or are they visions? What does Seto Kaiba have to do with them, and what will transpire between them as a result?  What would likely have happened between them, despite what we would like to think.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dashed

Tension thrummed between her body and his. She felt alive in every inch of her, every cell in her body stirring at his nearness, at that husky drawl of his voice. She couldn't stop her own from betraying her own nervousness, from giving herself away.

That blasted smirk on his lips, so cynical and...adult...a gesture for such a young man, like he had expected to find her like this all along... who was supposed tohave clairvoyance here, him or her?

"Don't play dumb, Ishizu. That day in the museum—don't tell me that I'm making it up. The only one who feels the need to spin fictions is you, with your ridiculous fantasy myths of ancient Egypt." He was leaning against her doorway in that way of his, as if he owned the place and everything in it; it was all easy for him, this control, this having and deigning to have.

How authoritative. The spirit of the High Priest, despite Seto's best efforts, clearly flowed through him, imbued his every movement with innate seraphic grace.

She had been right after all. And yet…

"What I feel, Seto Kaiba, has nothing to do with the situation at hand." And yet why did she raise her hand to the back of his neck to pull him in close, to brush her own lips on his?

Before she could stop herself, chastise herself for giving in this far to her own misplaced lust—

"How old are you, Seto Kaiba?" Gods. Why, oh why had she felt the need to ask him this? Would it not only serve to betray her own interests, why she was so pleased that he had come to visit her room that night? And yet...

As if he could look even more smug. He reached out his pale, long-fingered hand and brushed her lips teasingly, making her shiver disgustingly under his touch.

"Old enough for what we both have in mind, Ishizu."

There, blessedly, the dreams stopped… usually.

Once awoken, Ishizu couldn't fall asleep again for love or for money- it was oppressively hot in her room on that blasted zeppelin; she felt as if she was seeking to crawl out of her skin and melt out of her bed. Melt, ooze, flow away somewhere safer, to somewhere where the weight of the world did not sit upon her shoulders, the unceasing pressure threatening to crush the delicate chrysalis bones of her neck, her skull, her chest.

Out of one prison and into another. Being enclosed like this, despite the plethora of windows on the zeppelin that allowed sweeping, dizzyingly panoramic views of Domino, certainly did not help matters one bit, did not help to soothe the aching discomfort that accompanied her every waking thought. Of course, having the ability to see daylight was an improvement upon her childhood spent underground in that nest, that catacomb of tombs, yet the whole "thousands of feet above the ground in a hot-air balloon" hardly served to calm her nerves.

Not to mention that her own brother, her own flesh and blood, was locked away inside his evil half somewhere on this very zeppelin. Oh, Marik must be suffering so—he had known nothing but disappointment and hurt his whole life, locked away as he had been with Ishizu and Odion in that ceaseless maze of stone, without light, without fresh air…

And all she could think about, despite her duties, despite her best efforts to focus on the task at hand was him.

She could feel the sweat pooling on her body, under the sheets, between her fingers, on the back of her neck, under her Millennium Necklace, and in places she would rather not think about.

Had the circumstances not been what they were, she would have almost found it laughable. Here she was, with the fate of so many lost, struggling souls in her hands, and all she could concern herself with, lying on her bed, engulfed in this veritable sauna, was Seto Kaiba.

Ishizu Ishtar was logical. Methodical. Practical. The abstract variables were things that she did not like to have to ruminate on, especially when so much was at stake. With her careful planning securing the quantitative elements, and her Necklace providing glimpses into the qualitative, Seto Kaiba surely fell within the purview of the latter.

Had they been visions or dreams? Ishizu realized, regrettably, that she wasn't quite sure. The images that tiptoed around her mind had been blurry, hazed, yet had felt so real…

Why did part of her hope they had been a mere dream, and why did a much stronger part of her crave the certainty of a vision?

Perhaps she should make a list of the pros and cons—didn't people do that when they had questions that they couldn't answer…ordinary people without the gift of occasional foresight?

She stirred under the sheets, then threw them off her legs impulsively, hoping the motion would create a rush of cool air and help reduce this sweltering swamp in which she found herself. No luck.

She sighed and sat up, noting the sticky, wholly unpleasant gluck her flesh made as her arms slapped against her sides, her knees and thighs knocking together.

Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the thickly paneled window by the bed, she noticed that she looked positively feverish, cheeks reddened from the heat, eyes too-bright, lips swollen and warm—she looked positively obscene.

She wrapped her white linen robe around her, despite the heat, and rose to her feet, pacing around the small, spare chamber.

Pro: He is young and incredibly, almost embarrassingly handsome. If he were to offer I would be in no position to say no.

Con: He does not respect me, my knowledge, my family life, or my way of living.

Ishizu lifted her thick mass of dark hair off the back of her neck, beads of sweat trailing down her back like round pearls, almost whimpering in misery at how much she wished she could dissolve into the floor.

Con: I have much more important things to worry about, right here and now, than a dalliance with a man.

She knew this in her heart to be true. Marik, the Pharaoh, the comatose girl in the hospital wing… these things were all of the utmost importance, and it was her task to make sure that all event went according to destiny, according to fate.

Yet other parts of her were concerned with different ideas that she did not, could not, entirely hate.

Pro: I deserve this. I deserve to let myself feel some pleasure, no matter how unworthy I may be of it.

Enough. This boiling cauldron in which she found herself dropped and left to simmer had won. She slipped off her robe briskly, leaving it in a pool of white linen. Her white nightgown by now was soaked through, clinging to her form most obscenely—that is, it would be obscene if anyone were there to observe it…

Stop it. This is not right.

And yet…

A knock at the door, muted but firm, startled her out of her reverie. No. It cannot be.

She could not bear to put on the robe again, not after the mite of improvement she had obtained after casting it off.

As she made her way to the door, knowing somehow precisely who had come to her chamber at this late hour, the downright wicked part of her mind whispered in her ear: I deserve this. Clairvoyance had its benefits after all. The gold glinting at her neck positively thrummed against her skin as she reached out a trembling hand for the doorknob.

I deserve this.

She was not disappointed by the vision of a man who leaned in her doorway, looking bored and haughty, a hint of a smirk twisting his lips as his eyes flickered to hers with hunger.

"Seto Kaiba. What are you doing here? The hour is quite late…" she trailed off, distracted suddenly by the rush of icy air that flowed into her room, kissing her skin, making her eyelids flutter.

He dropped his eyes to the front of her nightgown, which she only noticed peripherally. His lips curled into an almost-smile before reverting to his normal expression.

"Yes, well, I felt…bored." The word eased itself out of him, lowering his voice from his normal drawl into something deeper, more primal, more dangerous. Ishizu looked up at him, at his expression that he was trying so damned hard to keep even and impassive, and had to smile to herself. The way he looked at her, like he knew what was scratching at the corners of her mind, unbidden, begging to be unleashed…

"And you think that I will serve as a solution to your boredom?" Ishizu cocked her head to one side and took him in—did Seto sleep in that ridiculous coat, or had he merely thrown it on over the arguably adorable white shirt and cotton pants he now wore? Seto Kaiba sleeping was an odd thought in and of itself, but the simplicity of the garb he wore was almost endearing to her.

Two can play at this game. She reached out her hand, her eyes never leaving his, and smoothed out the lapels of his white trench coat. She raised an eyebrow, awaiting his answer.

In response, Seto reached out a hand and pressed the tips of his fingers right where the neckline of her nightgown met her skin, making her tremble slightly. Crooking his finger over the white linen, he narrowed his eyes like he was appraising what he was seeing, and enjoying it very much.

He bent his head down to where the Millennium Necklace sat on her neck and whispered: "Oh, I think so."

Ishizu, despite herself, felt something uncoil and come to life within her—something in her chest thudded almost painfully, while other parts of her stirred at his nearness, at his touch. Gods.

"Nice to see you've been taking advantage of the heat," Seto quipped, running his hand along her collarbone, taking the thin fabric of her nearly-sheer nightgown between his fingertips.

Ishizu blushed, remembering herself, remembering his predatory look at her in this compromising state of undress. She stepped away from him, back behind the threshold, and fumbled for her robe. Embarrassment twisted at her insides; a cold sweat trickled along the side of her neck, despite the sweltering temperature that engulfed her body.

I must remember my duty. This boy is a distraction—a foolhardy one.

And yet…

Suddenly giddy and light-headed at his continued look of interest, the hunger shining in his cerulean eyes, she shrugged the robe off of her shoulders, biting her lip and looking up at him through lowered heavy black lashes.

She strode over to him, more confidently this time, where he still lingered in her doorway, waiting to be granted entry. His eyes widened at her abrupt motion, the scent of her filling his nostrils—his pleasure at this path of events was evident on his face, in the way he clearly was biting his cheek as he stood before her.

Ishizu copied his earlier smirk. "Well, I suppose I must have you to thank for that, Seto Kaiba. Enjoying the results?" Had she been alone, she would have bitten her fist in response to her own rashness, her quasi-humiliating efforts at being flirtatious. Gods. This was not for her; this sort of dance was not one she had studied, had memorized in her careful, methodical way.

"Well, I certainly have no complaints," Seto returned, the drawl returned to his voice, as he took the next step forward in this most delicate of exchanges and flicked the strap of her nightgown off of her shoulder, exposing the bronzed flesh.

Pro: I deserve this. I deserve to let myself feel some pleasure, no matter how unworthy I may be of it.

Ishizu fought the flutter catching her in its grasp and stepped away, fixing Seto in a coy stare. "You're here for a reason, Seto Kaiba—have you finally come to accept the truth of your destiny?" The dig was half-intended as such, yet his features bypassed annoyance, twisting into a look of coldest scorn, before settling into his usual leer.

"You know why I'm here… Don't play dumb, Ishizu. That day in the museum—don't tell me that I'm making it up. The only one who feels the need to spin fictions is you, with your ridiculous fantasy myths of ancient Egypt."

Con: He does not respect me, my knowledge, my family life, or my way of living.

It was just like the dream—or had it been a vision? What he was saying, the tone of his voice, gave her the strangest sense of déjà vu.

The High Priest… and she, his match, the High Priestess. Like two perfectly paired sides of a coin. A coin she would bring into the light, and he would cast into darkness, into forgetfulness.

"What I feel, Seto Kaiba, has nothing to do with the situation at hand." And yet why did she raise her hand to the back of his neck to pull him in close, to brush her own lips on his?

"Does it?"

Before she could stop herself, chastise herself for giving in this far to her own misplaced lust—

Oh gods. It's happening. Just as I saw it…

Was that a flicker of surprise in his eyes? Before she pulled him in and pressed her lips to his?

Their lips met, clumsily and almost painfully, as if both of them wanted this too much to be able to conduct themselves properly—far from the swooning ravishment that suppressed part of her had anticipated.

Much to Ishizu's surprise, Seto was far from the skilled, haughty lover he had presented himself as—his hands were both too rough and too tenuous as they moved to her waist, and, well, there was a mite too much tongue for her liking.

Was Seto Kaiba this mediocre at kissing? Gods. I cannot imagine him during the act.

Had she called his bluff? Managed to shock him? Had the dance itself truly been enough for him?

When she finally extricated her mouth from his, his expression nearly undid her, and not in the way either of them would have liked. Seto's face had gone pale, his once-confident fingers now trembling against her, as if shy, ashamed.

Was this… second thoughts?

Doubt? Discomfort?

Fear?

He has no idea what he is doing, does he?

Something nagged at her mind and tugged itself off her tongue. "How old are you, Seto Kaiba?"

Gods. Why, oh why had she felt the need to ask him this? Would it not only serve to betray her own nagging doubts? And yet…

"Old enough for what we both have in mind, Ishizu."

Yet his voice was labored and quiet, as if he was actively trying to reclaim his earlier confidence, his cheekiness—as if this way of being did not come as easily to him as he would like.

Ishizu blushed, feel cold, icy shame grab her shoulders, drape across her chest with its painful, honest fingers. "You're just a child—you haven't even been to university. I cannot…" She backed away from him, across the threshold, while Seto struggled to catch his breath.

She buried her face in her hands to hide her utter mortification. I cannot believe I let things progress this far. He is far too young for me. He's just a boy.

"Ishizu, don't think for a moment that this changes things," Seto muttered bitterly, face still bloodless. His eyes were fixed on the ground as if looking anywhere else would cause him immeasurable pain.

Seto Kaiba, a nervous virgin. Gods. Who would have thought?

Ishizu smiled sadly at the mortified figure before her. He needs to leave with his pride. She reached out a tentative hand and tapped him on the shoulder, feeling him bristle under her touch.

"Seto Kaiba, while I greatly appreciate the offer, I must say that it is far too early for this sort of thing."

He lifted his eyes, large and round like a chastised child, to hers.

She narrowed hers, hoping her meaning was clear. "Perhaps if you came by at a later hour, a later time, things would be different… Once you have seen the world, the world outside your tower of glass. Understand?"

Perhaps the vision would come true. Not now, but later.

They were matched, after all—High Priest, High Priestess, united in their service of the mighty Pharaoh, even if Seto refused to believe the difficult truth of it.

Seto rewarded her discretion, her tacit refusal to make things any more awkward, with an almost-smile and stood up, wiping a trickle of sweat off his brow. He stood up, spine straight as an arrow, and fixed his features into his typical sneer-smirk. "That's a load of nonsense, Ishizu. You think that just because things were one way in your story, that that has any bearing on what is happening here and now…"

Despite his words, his eyes seemed to soften with thanks.

Ishizu nodded her head quietly. Seto chuckled a bit under his breath, not unkindly, and turned on his heel, retreating into the darkness of the corridor.

Closing the door with a faint click, Ishizu let out a long sigh, pressing a hand to her forehead. Gods. Forgive me my transgression. I do deserve this.

After all, she reasoned, nothing much had changed. Her duty still remained. Her loyalties were unchanged.

And as for Seto Kaiba… well… he was young. So young, and despite his protestations and posturing, so innocent, so cloistered away in his own world that things such as this did not come naturally to him, were not truly him.

She knew that while neither of them could completely forget the events that had just transpired, perhaps, with time, things would change. The things she had dreamt—foreseen—the mutual satisfaction… that could still come to pass.

In the meantime, however, she hoped to still be able to speak to him in the morning. Destiny was destiny, and he still had a part to play, whether he liked it or not—and she would not let him forget it.


	2. Hopes

Destiny is destiny. And yet…

And yet somehow Seto Kaiba had managed to wrest control of the endless strand of his destiny that had laid out before them—his destiny and hers—and had reshaped it into something else entirely with his own hands. Something that she did not recognize—how had he beaten her?

What could Seto Kaiba have seen in that strange vision that had overtaken him, that had caused him to sacrifice Obelisk and to summon his White Dragon—to prove her and the Necklace wrong, to rip out the rug beneath her?

"I make my own destiny!"

What power the High Priest still had, then. To be able to change the course of fate, of history…

To give her this small, shining gift of hope in her chest that Marik could be saved…

The High Priest—or rather, Seto—had done this much for her.

Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to stop thinking of him as the High Priest Set. After all, after their last, most unfortunate encounter in her room before their fateful duel, Ishizu was not sure of much anymore.

Particularly them.

Ought there to be a them, even, after the poor show Seto had made of himself? After he had demonstrated that tender, fragile youth and… innocence… that gave him such vigor, despite his ever-present show of cynicism and world-weariness?

Ishizu blushed to herself to think of it, and not in a way that either of them would have liked.

How could she have made such a mistake in what she had seen would transpire between them? Had they been visions of the future between them, a future that no longer applied? Had they been a mere dream, a rather shameful expression of the disgraceful lust and desire she still bore for that young man? Or had they simply been a hint of memory of their shared past, all bleeding together with the future she so clearly craved, even while sleeping?

Had any of her visions of the two of them, either in past or in present, merit? Any scrap of truth, of things that would ultimately bring them together—High Priest Set and High Priestess Isis, in past and in future, two perfectly matched sides of the same coin, bound by their loyalty to their Pharaoh?

Perhaps she ought to start thinking of the Pharaoh as the name he used now… Yugi Moto.

Perhaps it would not hurt.

She found herself tossing and turning in her bed, trying to puzzle it all out in her mind, trying to grasp at that thread that had been taken out of her hands—the thread of destiny, of fate, of everything she believed she could trust seemingly severed irrevocably.

What does one do... what can one do when everything they believe in breaks irretrievably?

Where should I go?

Without the Millennium Necklace she felt bare, naked even in her nightgown and robe—exposed for all the world to see, to judge… like she was missing a part of herself.

As if the Priestess Isis herself, her own past self, had left her in the darkness for good.

Without fate, without destiny, without truth, who was Ishizu Ishtar?

She shuddered to think of it.

This nebulous, dangerous world, where nothing made sense, where nothing was certain and everything left to chance… this world where years of the most carefully wrought plans could be undone by a single boy and his arrogance.

She didn't know what overtook her; she found herself sitting up in bed, spine stick straight, a terror thrilling itself through her veins. Her head felt light, as if all of the oxygen in the room had abandoned her, left her to choke on her own fear and shuddering half-articulated breaths.

I need to get away. A bit of fresh hair…

She wrapped her robe around herself tightly and tied the accompanying belt to hold everything in place, to stop her guts spilling out from behind the white linen and onto the hard linoleum floor before her.

Despite not being totally familiar with the ins and outs of the zeppelin, Ishizu managed to wander the corridors that all looked the same until she found a series of metal staircases that led up, up, up…

The gust of cool air that greeted her as she threw open the door at the top was truly a mercy. She tried not to focus on how high up in the deep, endless sky they must be—3000 feet? A full mile? Gods…

So great the works of mere man…

To both her dismay and, despite her best efforts, excitement, he was there, on the platform on top of the zeppelin. Still clad in that white trench coat, black buckles on his sleeves waving in the wind, Seto Kaiba was leaning forward on the railing, apparently in deep thought.

Is he thinking of me…?

Perish the thought. And yet a blush still fought its way onto her cheeks, despite the sheer foolishness of it all.

Of course, the cons came first to her.

Con: Seto Kaiba does not respect me, my life, or my way of living.

But what did her way of living truly mean anymore?

Con: Seto Kaiba is but a child, a boy who believes he is a man, a boy who has not truly seen what this world has to offer.

But she had lived underground her whole life, hidden from the outside world, from mere sunlight; was she truly different from he?

Con: Seto Kaiba is… to put it kindly… an amateur in the ways of the flesh.

And yet…

Pro: I cannot deny myself. Despite everything, I cannot.

I cannot deny my heart.

Ishizu took a deep breath, praying that Seto would not hear her, would not notice her most unwelcome presence from where she stood behind him, the night breeze making a windswept mess of their clothing and hair.

"What are you doing here, Ishizu? Don't you have somewhere better to be?" His voice wasn't cold or rude, just bored… bored and tired.

As if he were tired of the idea of her, her running around after him hopelessly crying out about fate and destiny into the void.

As if he would no longer pretend to tolerate her.

The apathy in his voice sent Ishizu's pulse fluttering anxiously, that stone in her chest thudding painfully, her skin erupting in gooseflesh at this apparent rejection.

Did we not have something, there, earlier? In my room? When you touched me, when we spoke?

Have you forgotten that, Seto Kaiba?

Or are you merely running away with your tail between your legs?

"Seto Kaiba." She murmured his name like a prayer, the sounds of him so comforting to say.

"Nnn." He tossed a careless glance over towards her as she moved over to stand beside him at the railing. The whole city spread out before them like a carpet of the gods, twinkling and rippling in places where there was life.

Things were still happening in the world, Ishizu had to remind herself. People going about their nightly activities, mothers tucking their children into bed with a kiss, adults making preparations go to bed, adolescents riding along the streets in their cars at night, feeling free…

Feeling free…

If destiny is not truly as I have seen it, if there is indeed no path along which all events must continue ever forward, then what is there for me?

Freedom?

"Seto, I must thank you again for defeating me, for showing me that fates can be changed," Ishizu began, her voice a murmur in the howling wind.

"Ishizu…" muttered Seto, not meeting her intent sea-blue gaze. His shoulders shifted uneasily under the coat.

"I didn't do it for you."

"I know," Ishizu replied simply, heart still in her throat.

They stood there like that for a moment, both refusing to acknowledge the awkward silence that had grown like a weed between them, threatening the twist them up in its tangled grasp.

Seto cast a glance back at her. His usually haughty face looked almost…afraid? He swallowed visibly as she stepped forward to stand beside him.

"About the other night, Ishizu… that…"

"Please, Seto, do not speak of it further if it troubles you so. I assure you, I have already put it out of my mind." Well, that is patently false, but…

At this false admission, Seto looked slightly pained. "No, Ishizu… that's… that's not what…" He looked at his hands and interlaced them on top of the railing.

"That's not what I wanted to happen."

Ishizu let out a light, airy laugh that sounded utterly forced to both of their ears, placing a meant-to-be-comforting hand atop his clasped hands for a moment, startling them both. "Oh, I know that. Please do not worry about it…"

Seto cut her off by leaning in and pressing his lips against hers simply, softly. Ishizu's eyes reflexively fluttered shut as every part of her came alive, her heart hammering in her chest, heat rising under her skin…

Before the events of last time could repeat themselves, most shamefully and painfully for both of them, Seto pulled away, looking shy, mouth twitching in a mixture of what looked like sadness and disgust.

Ishizu couldn't stop a smile from quirking at her lips, despite the embarrassment she also felt in her heart at his youth, his rashness, his innocence, his age…

He still cares after all?

"But you're so young, Seto Kaiba." The thought of her own now-dormant lust for him was almost shameful, bitter on her tongue... Eighteen years to her twenty, seemingly not insurmountable and yet a whole world of difference lay between them.

Seto let out a dry chuckle that almost sounded like a sob, surprising both of them. "If that's what you're worried about, Ishizu, I won't always be this young."

After a thoughtful pause he added flatly, "Or that inexperienced."

Then, softly, as if he would not, could not, believe that the great Seto Kaiba would ask this, in the humblest of ways: "... Will you wait? It just... for some reason... feels like this should happen, despite my better judgment." His voice was rough, as if even he, much less she, could believe the utter fragility of the words that spilled past his lips.

"Your feelings, such as they are, will change, I'm sure. I thought you did not believe in destiny, Seto Kaiba." Here was Ishizu's turn to try and return their usual banter, a hollow feeling rising in her heart at the thought of him feeling truly cold towards her.

Here Seto looked directly at her: a veritable deer caught in her headlights, vulnerable and open, frightened in her gaze. "It's not destiny I'm evoking, Ishizu... can you understand that?"

Ishizu moved her hand to rest atop his clasped ones once more, but she did not move it this time. In response, Seto rewarded her with a curt nod, his eyes holding hers as if in a vise.

Pro: I cannot deny myself this.

I will not deny myself this.

Despite the uncertainty that not knowing what the future held, for her or for anyone, there was something strangely comforting in this. This constancy. This ridiculous amount of potent emotion the pair of them felt for one another, despite the odds, despite their differences…

High Priest or no High Priest, High Priestess or no High Priestess…

This, for now, in this moment, with everything in the world—their past, present, and future all mingled together and at stake…

This would suffice.

And besides, while Seto Kaiba was still a babe in the woods, his whole sexual life looming before him like an endless plain, there would still be time, and ways, to… ahem… teach him the ways of love, would there not?

And for once, despite the fears still nestled within her, despite everything she would have to face come sunrise, Ishizu Ishtar found herself looking to the future with a certain joy in her heart.


End file.
